


Silver Lining

by Lucius Parhelion (Parhelion)



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1950s, A-bombs, Cold War, Historical, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Las Vegas, M/M, Science Bros in Lust, Space Race
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-01
Updated: 2009-11-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parhelion/pseuds/Lucius%20Parhelion
Summary: In 1958, what happens in Las Vegas won't stay in Las Vegas after assessing an atomic testing project. It's certainly no time to notice how good your favorite colleague looks in a dinner jacket.





	Silver Lining

 

I

When Rob felt this bad, his sure-fire, gold-medal comfort was meeting some luscious number who would distract him with gossip over drinks and company in bed. But going straight from the Nevada Test Site to any place where he could find his kind of guys was a bad idea. There were rumors that the FBI took an interest in new faces at the sort of top-secret pow-wow he had just attended, not to mention at atomic tests like the one they'd been marched off to assess. And Rob didn't know how to find the safer clubs or bars in this town without risking notice, let alone exclusive parties. So much for knowing where the boys were.

Rob's ever-reliable, silver-medal comfort was watching the weather, even when he wasn't being paid for his observations. So, weather-watching would have to do for easing today's mood. Given how much tourists liked gawking at the A-bombs, Rob had no trouble gaining access to the roof of the Riviera Hotel. And he could enjoy the sky undisturbed since, after the conference shot, nothing more was scheduled on the Test Site for the next few days.

There were some nifty cumulus towers forming over the mountains to the west of Las Vegas. Propping his arms on the parapet, Rob watched the clouds build. They rose swiftly, the growing cloud tops silver-white and glowing in the sunlight, completely oblivious to anything humanity might be up to far below. Clouds didn't care if Rob was stuck on the Las Vegas Strip, or that 1958 brought man-made objects to beep high above them in orbit, or that this new skirmish in space between the Soviets and the U.S. had thrown Rob's life into chaos. Instead, the huge sky and towering clouds were soothingly indifferent, reminding Rob only of his boyhood dreams about flying through a world of blue vastness, shining white billows, and wind.

Right when it seemed as if a few clouds might break through into the tropopause, a familiar voice said, from behind Rob, "You're now on vacation, Dr. Lanard. There's no need to try and predict the local weather."

Without turning, Rob said, "I'm not. I'm just enjoying myself."

Dr. Phillip Argent moved to stand at Rob's elbow and stare out toward the mountains. Even in this desert heat, he was neatly dressed in what looked to be one truly expensive charcoal gray suit. Rob was surprised that Argent would risk his well-tailored jacket by leaning on the concrete parapet.

"How'd you know I'd be up here?" Rob asked.

Argent paused in tapping a cigarette on its silver case. "I've known you for over a year. And you weren't trying to hide."

Rob wasn't sure if he was just that predictable or if Argent was just that good at playing detective. Both, probably. After using his Zippo lighter on Argent's cigarette, Rob went back to watching the clouds.

Argent took a long drag, removed the cigarette from between his lips, blew some smoke, and said, "Strong vertical development, there. Think we might see some rain?"

"In this climate?" Rob shrugged. "Doubt it, even if it is unstable aloft."

"Mmm." Argent stubbed out his cigarette on the parapet, dropped it onto the roof, and ground what was left beneath his heel. It was a rough gesture for him. He came from some sort of old money up around Boston, and that showed in his manners. He was what the girls called refined.

In fact, Dr. Argent was so refined that Rob wondered about him sometimes, widower or no. But it didn't pay to think such thoughts about anyone who could ask Rob's boss to top Rob off like a Douglas fir. Rob enjoyed working for the Weather Bureau, even if his duties hadn't turned out to be anything like what he'd expected. He sure wasn't going to risk being fired under the law barring homosexuals from the Civil Service merely to test a hunch in the perpetual game of Guess Who Is Mary in Trousers.

In any case, Argent was still talking. "I'm sorry I dragged you out to Nevada. I'm getting the distinct impression that Las Vegas isn't at all to your taste."

"It's not bad. The showgirls are a treat."

"Not enough of a treat that you would have chosen to spend vacation time here. I believe you prefer to hike."

"Uh-huh. Wouldn't have minded walking the Spring Mountains." But I couldn't be pulled back for more consultation this next week if I went wandering off into the wilderness, was the unspoken end of Rob's sentence.

Unspoken or not, Argent somehow heard it. He said, "I'd rather be fishing a trout stream in Montana, myself." Then he used his free hand to mime casting a line over the edge of the parapet and toward the cars parked several stories below them.

Rob relaxed. It seemed as if Dr. Argent had decided he was off duty, which made him harmless to anyone who didn't meddle with his bureaucratic politics. So, Rob was clear. Although he'd been tasked to advise the Special Committee on Space Technology right after the Reds launched Sputnik last year, he still answered to the Weather Bureau. Whether or not he'd be moved over to NASA -- the new space agency hastily cobbled together -- was a problem for administrators like Argent. All Rob cared about was that he wasn't Argent's underling yet, so friendly informality was safe. Or fairly safe. As Rob had learned years ago, his homosexuality meant growing friendships were never entirely safe.

Scraping up a smile, Rob said, "At least I'm getting a vacation, even if it's a fake one."

"I know, I know. These past months have been a wild ride. Still, we're organized now."

"Sure. All that's left is to actually do some rocket science. Lots of rocket science. Rocket science that doesn't blow up."

"Fewer explosions and more successful launches would be good, I agree."

"Yeah. Fewer explosions." Suddenly, Rob could feel the words that had wanted to erupt out of him for days bubbling up again. At least he managed to look around and make sure the roof was otherwise empty before he asked, "What the hell were they thinking?"

Argent's glance around as Rob kept talking was less obvious, but just as thorough.

"Setting off an A-bomb in near space just to see what would happen to the upper atmospheric radiation belts? We've barely started learning what those belts are and do for us, and those morons thought they'd try irradiating them? And then they do it not once, but three times? Great. How about dumping another A-bomb into a hurricane, while we're at it? That would be interesting, too. Oh, and we could try stuffing an H-bomb down an active volcano. We might learn all sorts of things about the Earth's interior."

"Easy, now." For a moment, Rob thought Argent was going to put a hand on his shoulder. Instead, he tapped Rob's forearm and asked, "Cigarette?"

"No. Thank you." Rob shook his head. "And sorry."

"That's fine. I've watched you editing your opinions all week. At least you didn't say anything this vivid at the conference. Dr. Cristofilos, not to mention his military and industry supporters, would have been upset."

"Interesting experimental results or not, Dr. Cristofilos can kiss my... dissertation on upper atmospheric dynamics. Bet he sticks forks into electric sockets to enjoy the thrill."

"Possibly. He's reputed to be rather eccentric."

"Christ." Rob took a deep breath and released it. "I came up here to shake this mood."

"Then this verbal purging of yours may have done you more good than cloud watching. Even watching these beauties."

There was an interval as they both looked westward. A few of the cumulonimbi were up through the tropopause and into the stratosphere now, trying to form anvil heads. Rob linked his hands on the parapet. "Do you ever wonder what else might be going on that you don't know about?"

"Oh, yes, I do. Then I tell myself that there's enough on my own dinner plate without staring around the dining room. Sometimes that reminder even works."

When Rob turned, he saw Argent had removed his cigarette case from his breast pocket again and was flipping it over and over between his long, thin fingers. After frowning down at the engraving on the obviously antique silver for a few seconds, Argent put it away before saying, "If it's any help, I think the civilian scientific advisory committee's final report will be distinctly cool toward the idea of attempting more launches even if there is a break in the impending atmospheric testing moratorium. One or two of us put our heads together between meetings. Maybe they'll listen to us."

"That would be nice. Insert light bulb and turn on blender. Jesus."

Argent's lips twitched. "Vivid."

"Uh-huh. Do you need me to call any of Reich's guys for scientific reinforcements?"

"No, there are only certain people I can talk to at the Weather Bureau. It's a matter of security clearances. Although I might refer them to you for ugly details, if you don't mind."

"You can refer them to me if I do mind. You're the boss." At Argent's raised eyebrows, Rob added, "Okay, you're not really my boss, but you're still right."

"I'm so pleased to hear that my being right matters more to you than the proper governmental hierarchy." At Rob's twitch, Argent added, "I'm quite serious. Some people lose track of any higher priorities amidst the day-to-day political concerns."

"I know. But what good it would do to save us all from the Reds if we break the world in the process, I do not know. I have to try keeping my head on straight."

"Remember that, and you'll be fine. In fact, it's excellent advice for everyone." Argent hesitated a moment before asking, "Join me for dinner tonight?"

"Thanks, I will." If Rob couldn't climb into the sack with someone distracting, at least Argent was good company. They had enough of an overlap in their service and college records not to have to stick to the usual, impersonal small talk, and Argent could be funny, in an arid kind of way.

Argent asked, "Since neither of us should be seen gambling seriously, shall we take advantage of another local amenity? I wouldn't mind seeing the _Lido de Paris_ over at the Stardust. We could take in the dinner show."

"Sure. I'll meet you down in the lobby at ten to eight."

"Excellent." With a brief smile, Argent straightened from the parapet and dusted off the sleeves of his suit jacket. Then he briskly strode over to the staircase door, looking neither to the right nor left.

Rob shook his head. This was one red-blooded, All-American evening in front of him. He hoped any federal on-lookers would be pleased.

He studied the clouds one last time. It seemed as if the cumulonimbi weren't going to amount to much as they moved over the plains. Too bad. The desert could always use some rain. Rob turned away to follow Argent downstairs.

***

Of course, Dr. Argent would wear black tie to attend what was nothing more than a classy girly show, Rob realized as Argent emerged from his elevator. And, of course, he would look great wearing it.

Argent was tall and slim in a way that Rob -- with his tendency to drift from burly toward chunky if he didn't watch himself -- had always envied. The guy probably kept trim in one of those private club gymnasiums where they made their wealthy members jump over vaulting horses and swing around Indian clubs. The results were impressive. As well, Argent's silver hair did more than merely blur his age. Going gray so early might help him deal with D.C. politicians a generation or two older than he was, but his hair also went great with hazel eyes and a black dinner jacket. And that was entirely enough assessment.

Striding up to the palm in the lobby where Rob was waiting, Argent stopped, pursed his lips, looked Rob up and down, and nodded approval.

Rob snorted. "The snap inspection should bug me."

"Yes, perhaps it should, since you're on vacation," Argent sounded dryly amused. "That's still a good suit."

"Thanks. I hope the showgirls will be impressed."

"As much as they can be, I'd imagine, without money in the equation." Fishing out his car keys, Argent twirled the key ring around his forefinger and then asked, "I'm not sure how much you'd like to drink this evening. Who's driving?" 

Offering the car keys was a subtle apology, and Rob appreciated it. "I'll be good if you need me to take the wheel on the way back, but you should go ahead now. I'm pretty sure your rental isn't being paid for by the taxpayer."

"What, you don't think we've earned a Cadillac Convertible?" Argent headed for the front entrance, Rob by his side.

"Earned and deserve are different. Tell you what. If we ever make it outside of Las Vegas to do some touring, I'll split the driving duties with you."

"Good. I wouldn't mind visiting Hoover Dam, even though I'm not holding my breath."

"Cyanotic blue wouldn't be your color," Rob agreed. "No good with your hair."

He managed not to slap his forehead when Argent shot him a quick, quizzical glance. What with the recent space race, Rob hadn't attended any cozy parties in months, and he had once or twice slipped those Special kinds of phrases into chats with normal guys he liked. He really needed some safe company, and soon, before he began dropping hairpins all over the place.

The Caddy was a sweetheart, if a bigger car than Rob usually liked. Although it seemed silly to drive such a ridiculously short distance rather than walking, Rob knew it wouldn't seem silly a few hours from now, when any pedestrians would have to dodge well-oiled drivers in the dark as the shows let out along the Strip.

Neither of them said much until they'd turned into the lot past the Stardust's huge, neon sign with its strange hybrid of the planet Saturn and some sort of nebula. After he had parked the car, Argent turned to Rob and asked, "How many?"

"Two, maybe three depending on how strong the drinks are. I'm playing it safe."

"I'll stick to a brace of martinis as well. I'd hate to have anyone think there were reasons for me to drink hard." With that, Argent got out of the Caddy. This was the second time he'd acknowledged that someone other than Rob might be watching.

Once inside, the black tie did them some good. They were led to a table only one row back from the roped-off dance floor. Glancing down at his program, Rob could tell from the semi-nude cuties along the edges of the promised delights of " _Ca C'est L'Amour_ " that he was in for quite a show even before the curtains opened. He ordered a bourbon and branch to go with his meal and settled back, resigned to being entertained Paris-meets-Las-Vegas style.

At least the dancing was good, if too choreographed around feminine legs and bare breasts to do much for Rob. At first, he was tempted to count pasties to distract himself. But the showgirls' antics were amusing, and the comics were only half-bad. The production numbers were ridiculously grandiose, what with the supposed ice, the waterfall, and the court of Versailles. To his surprise, Rob found he was enjoying himself.

Argent had stuck to a single drink with dinner, and was now sprawled back gracefully in his chair, drinking a second martini, doing that strange trick again where he only took a couple of drags off his cigarette before he crushed it out. His eyes were firmly fixed on the stage, and he was smiling faintly, but he seemed to sense Rob's regard. His gaze shifted to meet Rob's and he said, "It's quite a production," his voice pitched not to carry too far.

Rob, who'd been raised not to interrupt the tiny shows at the mountain resort his folks had run, settled for nodding with a smile. Argent studied him for a long few seconds before turning his attention back to the showgirls.

A couple of hours later, they emerged from the showroom. Rob asked, "Do you want to stop by the lounge? I think Billy Daniels is singing."

"It's gross superstition, but I feel as if that would be an invitation for our former military hosts to call us back in early tomorrow morning."

"I know what you mean," Rob said.

"I'd ask if you wanted to visit the casino back at the Riviera, but do you gamble even to the small degree we could permit ourselves?"

"No. Advanced statistics ruined me. Took all the fun out of it."

"Then I take it you're not a card counter. Let's head for our hotel."

It seemed smart to keep quiet during the short trip back so that Argent could concentrate on avoiding the crazies. Rob was surprised to hear himself say, as they entered the Riviera's parking lot, "We could go for a drive."

"Not a bad idea, but I admit I'd be tempted to keep going. Let's find a couple more drinks instead and see if we can get a gander at some stars up on the roof." Argent half-smiled. "Maybe we'll see a satellite."

That seemed unlikely, given all the bright lights and neon around here, but Rob thought he knew what was being hinted at: privacy. Inside, Argent made no effort to flag down anyone for a martini, and Rob noticed that they weren't veering toward the Starlight Lounge. They headed first for the elevators and then for the stairs to the roof.

The part of the hotel's roof they emerged onto was empty except for a courting couple on the far side overlooking the pool. Without discussion, Rob and Argent walked to where they had stood that afternoon, which gave them a view back toward the Stardust, and the desert, and the mountains beyond.

Rob was the first to speak. "I thought I was paranoid. You think they might have some sort of recording device that works in a rental car?"

"I doubt it, but--" Argent shrugged. "Events since the War have probably made me warier than I need to be. As you know, these past years have been very security conscious." He shifted his hand toward his breast pocket and away again.

"Forget your lighter?"

"I'm trying to cut down. I've smoked more in the last few days than I have in decades."

Well, that accounted for all the stubbing out after two puffs. "You're making me feel better again -- that I wasn't the only one bothered by the conference, I mean -- but won't talking about this make you feel worse?"

"Ask me in a few minutes," Argent said quietly

Rob blinked. Surely Argent couldn't be--

"That was interesting tonight."

\--about to try to find out--

"However, to me, your reaction was the most fascinating part of the show."

Wow, he was fishing for more than trout. Rob blurted, "You're taking a hell of a risk."

"Am I?" Rob couldn't see it in the dim, but he could hear the smile behind Argent's words. "That statement would seem to imply I'm not."

Neatly reasoned, well signaled, and still nothing explicit actually said. Rob snorted out an impressed laugh before he could stop himself.

His voice still quiet, Argent said, "I'm a homosexual, Dr. Lanard."

"I did get that. Me, too, Dr. Argent."

"Thank God."

They both fell silent for a few seconds, probably to catch their breaths and let their pulses slow back down. At least, Rob knew that was what he was doing. Eventually he asked, "You sure you don't want just one more cigarette?"

"You know, I think I do."

Rob was aware he was showing off, but he couldn't help using the Zippo with his special flourish this time. Argent's eyes, in the brief light of the flame, were both knowing and amused. He leaned back into the shadows again, against the parapet, and took a long and luxurious drag. Rob put away his lighter, realizing he'd also relaxed. He propped himself against the parapet too, still careful to keep a proper distance between them.

"What clued you in?" Rob kept his voice down.

"Don't worry. I never even suspected until quite recently. You lack that certain air. Instead you're-- Were you an Eagle Scout?"

"Uh-huh. I never got lured away from Scouting by girls."

"It shows, as does an outdoorsy streak."

"I grew up in the San Bernardinos, out in California. Rode horses, skied, worked a little timber and fought a couple of fires during the summers to help pay for U.C.L.A, that kind of stuff."

"Be still, my beating heart." Rob couldn't decide if the extra-dry amusement in Argent's voice was complimentary or teasing. "I take it I was more obvious."

"Only because I've had lots of practice. You could have just been, um, refined."

Argent chuckled. "Very tactfully put, Dr. Lanard."

"Rob. I guess you can call me Rob now."

"Then I'm Phillip."

"I'm not sure I dare. I might slip, and you're-- Not the boss. But still my higher up. Sir."

"Oh, not sir. Please not sir, not in these circumstances." They'd both been military, but, from the amusement back in Argent's voice, he was also referring to much more informal roles.

Rob smothered a grin. "Okay. Say, if you need any proof of how crazy it's been this last year, here it is. We've both been around those circles in Washington D.C. and never run into each other."

"Neither of us has been there for more than a few years, and we've both been quite busy. Also, I have been very careful ever since I went to a party and spotted someone who I know has also denounced other government officials as 'vile pinko perverts'."

"Ugh."

"Yes. I left and have yet to attend anything else sponsored by someone in that crowd. I assume those of our fellows whom you've met have been less political."

"You could say that." Rob had always preferred his bedmates even more lavender than Franklin Pangborn, if younger and cuter. Those sorts of guys didn't make it into politics. He hadn't realized that his tastes were keeping him out of trouble. "But I've been careful about the bars and avoided the parks altogether."

With an approving nod, Argent took another long and luxurious drag from his cigarette. What the pull on his cheeks did for his face in the light of the tip flaring up was impressive. Rob was almost sorry when Argent briskly stubbed out the cigarette. "Well. I don't suppose we dare linger too much longer."

"So, you really think we're being watched."

"Oh, yes. Either whoever opened my mail this morning wasn't as good as he thought he was, or someone wanted me to notice. A modern variant on putting the fear of God into me, perhaps, since I'll be senior co-author on the report our recent committee is to submit."

"Crap. I'd better call my girlfriend and warn her the snoops are out."

"Would that be the same young lady, the doctor from Georgetown, that you were taking out for dinner and dancing two weeks ago? Sylvia Metcalfe, was it?"

"That's her. She'll be flattered you remembered."

"An astute young lady. Quite attractive. I recall thinking you were a lucky man." His question was unspoken but still easy for Rob to understand.

"I'm a lucky guy. She's a hell of a catch, especially given how much she loves her job. It means she's willing to tolerate how screwed up my schedule gets, since she has some of the same social problems."

"Does she?" From the faint whiff of amusement in those two words, Argent had gotten the message about Syl's tastes. "Then you certainly are a lucky man. Do say hello for me."

"I will." Rob suppressed the sigh of regret, but he did let himself stretch before he said, "Guess we'd better head downstairs. What with all the lights up here, there's not much worth watching." Not if you didn't count the couples wandering onto the roof for necking, and Rob didn't. Mind you, he would have been willing to loiter for hours, enjoying the chance to talk without having to stay so buttoned up. But Argent and he would have plenty of chances to shoot the breeze in the future if they kept their eyes open.

Argent knew that, too. With a noise of agreement, he straightened up from where he leaned on the parapet, and then waited for Rob to precede him back across the roof. They rode down in the elevator to their floor together, and Argent gave Rob an ironic, three-fingered salute before he fished out the key to his door down the hall.

It was obvious he was going to remind Rob about the Eagle Scout thing every so often. Rob found he didn't mind.

 

II

Rob was in a good mood when he woke up the next morning. Likely it was due to the combination of an almost vacation day ahead of him, getting his attitude about the conference off his chest, and finding someone else from whom he wouldn't have to hide any more.

His call to Syl went well, too. He had forgotten about the time difference between Las Vegas and Washington until he got back to his room -- good work, Mr. Meteorologist -- but at least he realized his mistake before he woke her up. Instead, he left a message with her answering service, and her return call caught up with him right after he got out of the shower.

Syl was a pal. They spent a couple of pleasant minutes bellyaching about their respective jobs, which gave Rob a chance to complain about the chickenshit security keeping an eye on him. Then they swapped sympathy and some mildly hilarious billing and cooing before hanging up. Rob headed downstairs for breakfast with a smile on his face.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see Argent already seated in the hotel's coffee house, neatly dressed in another natty gray suit and frowning over a copy of what looked like yesterday's _New York Times_. From the bare table in front of him, his order hadn't arrived yet.

"Okay if I join you?" Rob asked, standing by an empty chair.

Argent looked up and smiled slightly. "Please." He folded up his paper.

The waitress came with coffee, and Rob placed his order. When she'd left, he said, "Sylvia sends her greetings and requests you don't overwork me."

"I'll pack away my own whips and chains, but she'll need to send a copy of her request to General Bayonne, as well. I got a call this morning. Dr. McKenzie would like to have dinner with us this evening. His tab."

McKenzie was one of the scientists working with the military on Project Argus, but he hadn't struck Rob as the worst of the lot. Rob shrugged and then nodded.

"The pleasant result of this evening's engagement is that it confirms we're free for the rest of the day. Do you have plans?"

Rob pretended to consider. "I was thinking about spending some time in the pool, but I'm still kind of red from when we were out…" He let a vague hand gesture substitute for 'observing the atomic test'. "Maybe I'll work on my latest paper for a while."

"I, to my shock, caught up on the paperwork I brought with me. It's also too early to do more with the report I'm helping draft." Argent paused for a sip of coffee. "I have some phone calls to make, but after that I'm free. I thought I'd drive over to Hoover Dam this afternoon."

"Oh?" Rob said. "Mind if I tag along?"

"I'd be glad of the company. What's your latest paper going to be about?"

They talked atmospheric stratification until breakfast came. Like most of the meals in Las Vegas, their food was palatable and cheap, which was all that you could say about it. But the breakfast talk was enjoyable, even after Rob noticed the man at the next table.

In the lobby afterward, Rob said, without letting his tone or expression change, "Am I the only one who saw the guy eavesdropping?"

"Obvious, I agree. I'm sure there's also someone covertly observing us at a distance."

"That's what they'd do in a detective novel."

Argent looked amused. Rob hastily asked, "What time do you want to leave? Noon?"

"I'll meet you in the lobby." With that, Argent veered off toward the front desk. For his part, Rob went back up to his room and settled in to do some calculations based on the carbon copies of experimental data he'd brought with him. He hoped anyone who might be listening had fun with the sounds of him working his slide rule and cussing whenever he fouled up his calculations.

His results were interesting enough that Rob forgot to check his watch until it was almost noon. Then he hastily packed away his work in his briefcase before changing out of his suit in favor of the T-shirt, blue jeans, and light flannel shirt he'd wear in the San Bernardinos during the summer.

After a moment's hesitation, he pulled his old Stetson out of his suitcase, removed the socks and BVDs he'd padded it with, and plopped the hat onto his head. Growing up around Big Bear, Rob had earned his Stetson honestly, and it was a great hat for fieldwork. He just hated wearing it anywhere in Washington, where it made him feel like some freshman congressman from Oklahoma.

It wasn't until he'd used the mirror by the door to neaten his collar and straighten his hat that he realized he was dressing to impress. "Now what are you thinking?" he asked his reflection. Unsurprisingly, his reflection didn't answer.

Down in the lobby, Argent had donned his own version of informal wear: an open-collared shirt and old gabardine jacket over light flannel trousers, topped by a straw fedora that had seen better days back in the forties. He looked at Rob and his lips twitched. Rob returned him a look of bland innocence. "Ready to go?"

"Oh, yes." This time, Argent tossed Rob the car keys without discussion. "I'll drive coming back."

It was already in the high eighties, and cumulus clouds were once more building to the west. Otherwise, the sun beat down from a relentlessly blue sky. Not wanting blisters over his sunburn, Rob left the top up on the convertible. Argent didn't argue. He also didn't demand the air conditioning be turned on, even if that was one of the luxuries the Cadillac had to offer. Instead, they both left their windows rolled down as Rob got them out of the Riviera's parking lot and heading toward Boulder City.

It didn't take long for the buildings around the Strip, all shiny and new, to give way to desert that smelled of dust, rock, and sagebrush. After he had them on U.S. 93, Rob asked, "Do you think we're still of interest to our recent companions?"

"Who can say? The vital, yet opaque, concerns of security men are not to be comprehended by mere bureaucrats such as you and I."

Rob grinned, and Argent kept going in a voice that somehow split the difference between languid and relaxed. "As of now, I'm on vacation and confining myself to intriguing but inoffensive topics. For example, that hat of yours. Am I correct in assuming it has a colorful history?"

The story about Flannery's mules, the brush fire, and Rob's Stetson led to Argent's tale of what you should never forget during a moonless night on a lake island in Maine. By the tail end of the trip, they were debating who had the craziest -- most eccentric, in Argent's lingo -- relative, complete with illustrative examples.

When they joined the line for the tour of Hoover Dam, the eavesdropper from breakfast got in line three people behind them. Rob nudged Argent and nodded his head toward the guy, who was seemingly preoccupied with a tourist pamphlet. Argent looked back, looked at Rob, and then raised his eyebrows even as his lips twitched. They both laughed.

The tour was great. Rob loved the functional beauty of the dam, its sweeping, sculpted concrete curves and the deep hum of all the generators as they sent their power off to the cities of the southwest. He wished he hadn't caught himself, every now and then, considering what one of the A-bombs they'd seen demonstrated would do to this work of human hands. When the tour was over, he and Argent leaned against the railing of the sidewalk overlooking Lake Mead, which was a startling blue against the red-brown rocks of the desert cliffs and hills all around them. They stood gazing out at the dam's intake towers as cars and trucks drove Route 93 across the top of the dam behind them.

Argent stirred to say, "I freely admit, I'm glad you were the expert it made the most sense to take along on this trip."

"True, I'm not sulking about having to avoid the craps tables the way Dr. Elgin would have." Argent's noise in response was both noncommittal and amused. Rob blithely continued, "And Dr. Stanovitz, much as I admire him, would have lectured me about the fascinating degeneracy of American low-brow culture every other hour we spent in Las Vegas, so I'm just as grateful you were the NASA official drafted for this job."

Argent's fingers tapped on the railing, restless and elegant. "I'm still hoping we'll be released early and able to fly back for a few days of true vacation."

"That would be neat. Even if I don't have enough time to get up into the hills, I'd still enjoy some time off before any more craziness begins."

They fell into a placid silence again, still looking out across the water. A couple of kids ran by, followed by their mother yelling at them not to fall in. Some tourists took turns taking photographs of each other pointing at the clock, set to Nevada time, on one of the intake towers. Rob didn't see their eavesdropping man. At last, he asked, "Did you know that they used to justify building dams out west by saying that irrigation would change the regional climate, making it wetter, banishing the desert?"

"Not the case, I take it."

"You'd think Egypt and the Nile would have made them think twice about that one. We don't know enough about climates yet to make those kinds of predictions. Or enough about the weather. But we need to."

"Don't worry. We'll find some way to use our soon-to-be-satellites to get you your much-desired views from above the atmosphere. You, I, and the Weather Bureau all agree on this point. Even the military adores the idea, as well they should."

"Sure. As we've seen this last week, they adore all sorts of ideas, including 'eccentric' ones."

"Down, boy. I already intend to have you draft the subsection of the conference report about our currently limited knowledge of the upper atmosphere and its features. I merely reserve the right to rephrase anything injudicious."

There was another pause. Rob turned to consider Argent, propping his elbows on the railing as he did so. "Think it'll do any good in the end? Really?"

Argent started to say something and stopped. Then he tilted his fedora back and said, "No. Not if the military saw something fascinating in their test results they could daydream into an offensive capacity. And we both noticed what that might have been." His hand twitched toward one of the pockets in his jacket, maybe to get at the cigarette case, before stilling. "But that doesn't mean we don't have to try."

"Okay. Okay, I understand." After checking his wristwatch, Rob said, "Do you want to head back?"

"I was thinking of taking an afternoon swim."

Without another word, they returned to the car. Rob didn't remember having left the folded map of Nevada on the front seat quite where it was, but he didn't say anything about that. Neither did Argent.

***

The drive back was another nice trip, with the occasional cumulus cloud, sweeping eastward overhead, to provide a fast-traveling patch of shade. Something about their idle talk, of books and the best countryside for hikes anywhere near D.C., firmed up Rob's suspicions. He and Argent had been wedging in these bits of personal conversation for months. They'd been well on their way to becoming friends even before Argent dropped his version of the bomb.

At the Riviera, Rob bought some lotion in the hotel store to slather onto the patches of skin that were starting to peel off him, ignoring the fact that Eavesdropping Man was back reading a newspaper in the lobby. Instead, Rob went upstairs to work on his paper again. The maid -- or someone -- had come and gone while he was out enjoying Hoover Dam, so he was all set to do the best he statistically could with his collection of high-altitude observations from weather balloons. When that entertainment paled, he pulled out the new Raymond Chandler novel he'd brought with him and settled down to read. Part of him wanted to brood about everything that had happened this week, but the rest of him really did not.

They had stopped in Boulder City to grab some burgers before driving the rest of the way back, so at least Rob wasn't ready to bite their host-to-be by dinnertime. But he was tempted to use teeth when he found out he'd have to sit through another girlie show for his supper.

"How many pasties can one man be expected to endure?" he asked Argent, on their way back out to the parking lot and the Cadillac.

Although his glance held warning, Argent's tone was mild. "Too many. Still, never complain about anything that might distract your opponent more than you."

Rob settled for responding with a gusty sigh.

No one outside of Hollywood, or off Broadway, should look as good as Argent did in a dinner jacket. If he hadn't noticed last night, Rob would have noticed now, especially once he had Dr. McKenzie to serve as a basis of comparison. McKenzie was waiting for them in the bar at the Dunes with a drink in front of him, maybe building up some Dutch courage for tonight's conversation.

Argent seemed as suave as Fred Astaire would when he ordered his dry martini to carry off to dinner, while McKenzie had huddled over his scotch like a high school chemistry teacher on a spree at a Shriner's convention. Of course, none of this would matter to the science either of them did, but Rob still saw the contrast between the two men. He wondered if McKenzie could see it, too. If he could, that had to sting.

After their drinks arrived, they were shown to their table, right at the edge of the area roped off for the show. McKenzie might not have had much personal style but he could somehow get to a headwaiter. Rob looked around the room once they were seated, not having to fake interest. Sure enough, Eavesdropping Man was parked a couple of tables over.

Back at their table, they spent some time swapping scientific gossip while waiting for their food. Rob felt his indifference toward McKenzie hardening into dislike as the guy told his share of the stories.

"When I was talking with Colonel Creedy last week, he said--" McKenzie was off again.

Having survived wildfires, blizzards, and six years in the Air Force, Rob was much less eager to be the best buddy of the boys in uniforms than a lot of government scientists were. Although he might dick other guys, Rob didn't need a pat on the shoulder from someone military to make him feel like a man. The uniforms' reactions to their homo soldiers -- even the combat veterans -- had shown Rob just how much military opinions about masculinity were worth: no more than Rob's were, and likely less.

"I believe our waitress is coming," Argent interrupted McKenzie's latest anecdote, smoothly as someone breaking in on the dance floor.

"Good. I could use a steak. I could use two steaks." McKenzie chuckled. It was real, it was hearty, and it made Rob want to roll his eyes.

When the waitress had come and gone, even after the show started, McKenzie kept the conversation going. Either it never occurred to him that their low voices could interfere with the performance or, more likely, he was using the show's noise to wall off their conversation from anyone at the neighboring tables. In either case, it took McKenzie the entire first act of Minsky's _Follies_ to work around to where he wanted to go.

"Do you have any idea what the committee report will say, Dr. Argent?"

"Not yet. I'm waiting to hear from some of my colleagues."

"Kind of a pity. We were hoping to get off some more high-altitude shots before the atmospheric testing moratorium."

"I can't see that happening, given the timeframe. I'm amazed you managed to gain such speedy approval for the three tests you did."

"Well, matters got streamlined because of the deadline approaching." McKenzie chuckled and Argent returned him a quizzical look. "It'll be helpful to have the good word about the Argus results for the next time we want to hurry things up. Really helpful."

Argent put down his fork on his plate. Then he leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and examined Dr. McKenzie as if this was the guy's dissertation defense and Argent was on the committee. "I hope you're not suggesting I adjust my assessment and recommendations for the convenience of some future program about which I know nothing."

McKenzie raised both hands; too bad his fork was still in one of them. "No, no. We're only interested in an outside assessment of the atmospheric and space-related implications of Operation Argus."

"Good, because both Congress and the President have agreed that NASA will be a civilian agency supporting activities 'devoted to peaceful purposes for the benefit of all mankind.'" Argent had fought hard for those words being in the legislation. "While I'm willing to provide advice on matters pertaining to weapons research, if I automatically accept the military perspective on every issue, I'm not doing my job. I'm doing yours, and I don't work for the Pentagon. In fact, the Pentagon doesn't work for the Pentagon, when all is said and done."

Christ. That had been blunt enough. McKenzie's eyes slowly narrowed. His movements were very deliberate as he sawed off his next piece of prime rib.

It was past time for Rob to stick in his oar. "I don't know why this particular report is so important, what with the President's atmospheric testing moratorium in place."

McKenzie snorted. "You really think that's going to last?"

"Maybe not, but I'd wager it'll hold for a while at least, two or three years maybe, long enough for we atmospheric guys to get enough of a handle on the radiation belts to have to rewrite everything. I'd wager a couple of sawbucks, in fact."

The pause seemed to go on forever before McKenzie's cold eyes warmed to amusement. "You're on."

"Duly witnessed," Argent said with a smile of his own.

After that, the conversation simmered down, much to Rob's relief. His relief was probably what made him drink one more bourbon and branch with dinner than he otherwise would have. He needed some insulation, even the liquid kind, between him and this too hot, too vivid town. Vivid as an A-bomb.

Up on stage, the showgirls strutted shoulder to shoulder, everything a man was supposed to want in their glittering costumes, bare skin, and fixed smiles. Seen like this, through all the bright lights and hazy smoke, they somehow reminded Rob of robots. The music from the orchestra could have come from a stereo system for all he knew. He felt fake himself, as fictional as someone in a movie, a future Las Vegas version of _War of the Worlds_ or _The Day the Earth Stood Still_.

Tearing his gaze away from the stage, he looked over at Argent, now patiently and tactfully soothing down McKenzie while promising him nothing. Argent's expression was calm and friendly, but his eyes looked about a thousand years old. Even in his near-perfect black tie, even with the smoke from his cigarette shimmering and writhing around his head like some fracturing halo, he seemed entirely real.

Rob wanted Argent then, with an intensity of lust that felt like the soft tap of a hot fist right above his groin. His mouth went dry, and his pulse raced. He had to swallow. But at least he had enough control to get his eyes back on the line of showgirls still strutting slowly and gracefully down the stairs on their set as the music played on.

Maybe half a minute later, McKenzie interrupted his conversation to chuckle, this time with a touch of wistfulness that made it hard to dislike him the way he deserved. "Those gals sure are something."

"Mmm," Rob said. "That they are." He raised a hand to attract the attention of a passing waitress and ordered another bourbon and branch.

Argent's near-murmur into his ear was shielded by the orchestral swell at the end of the number. "All right?"

"This place is getting to me. I'm just an old-fashioned weatherman at heart."

"Maybe."

"Yeah, maybe." Rob shot him a brief, heated look and was pleased to see Argent's eyes widen slightly before Rob turned away. Then Rob gave himself over to the rest of the show and the evening's conversation.

On their way out of the Dunes, as they passed underneath a statue of a turbaned sultan large enough to be noticed in Las Vegas, Rob quickly calculated. He'd have about two minutes of private conversation on the other end of the drive, while they walked between the Cadillac and the front doors of the Riviera, if he didn't want to slow them down enough to attract the interest of any onlookers. Never mind that Rob was a lot more preoccupied by his own concerns than the seeming efforts of the local security types to strong-arm the two of them. He still had to be careful.

After Argent got out of the car back at the Riviera and locked his door, Rob straightened from where he had leaned against his own door and said, "I'd like to spend some time with you back in D.C."

Argent looked at him, looked at the hotel entrance, and started walking. "I assume you don't mean in a professional or collegial capacity."

"You assume correctly."

The silence that followed cost them some talk, but it was worth it to hear Argent say, "Although not in any unpleasant way, you surprise me."

"Don't know why."

More silence was followed by, "My explanation would waste both our times. I know you understand how careful we have to be and why. Very well." He walked through the door being held open by the doorman. Rob followed. Once in the lobby, Argent paused long enough to ask, "Another drink?"

"Christ, no. My head's already swimming."

Something about Argent's smile made Rob want to slowly trace a thumb along his lips, so Rob forced himself to look around the lobby as Argent said, "Judicious. I recommend two Alka-Seltzers and a glass of water before retiring."

"Two glasses of water and a single Alka-Seltzer is my dose when needed, but otherwise I agree. Breakfast again at eight-thirty?"

"Yes," Argent said, and walked off without another word. Rob managed not to gaze after him. Instead, he headed for the elevators and his room.

Once upstairs, he took a long, hot shower. It not only cleaned the cigarette smoke out of his hair and the alcohol fumes from his brain, but also gave him privacy to lean his forearm against the tile and work out his immediate frustration with his other hand fisted around his cock. But it was a good kind of frustration, likely the best he'd find in this town. Even a thundercloud like Operation Argus had to have some sort of silver lining.

 

III

"I think they'll set us free today," Argent told Rob over breakfast the next morning.

"Here's hoping," Rob said. "I'm running out of atmospheric calculations to distract me."

Sure enough, shortly before ten while Rob was working on a graph of his results, he heard a knock on his door. When he opened it, Argent nodded politely. "I've heard from the local Powers That Be. We can head back to Washington. Unfortunately--" there was a touch of frost on that last word "--because of the delay, we won't be able to fly out until tomorrow morning. Very early tomorrow morning. Still, I hope you'll enjoy having today off." He started to turn away.

"Wait," Rob blurted. He knew it would be dumb to invite Argent inside his room, but, "I was thinking about driving up into the Spring Mountains to hike around a little. Do you want to join me?"

For a long few seconds, Argent considered him. Then, slowly, he smiled. "Yes. I'd like that. Even if you only need my company for my rental car."

"Hah. No, I need you in case I break a leg. If a meteorologist falls alone in the woods, does he make a noise?"

"Let's not find out. I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Great. Bring along an extra shirt or sweater, anything wool." Argent nodded, turning away. Rob shut the door before he could do anything stupid such as coaxing Argent to stay. Then he quickly changed and packed the small rucksack he always brought along on trips, adding the lotion for his sunburn, a canteen, a compass, a wool shirt, and other bits and pieces without which he wouldn't set foot on a trail. He finished by putting on and lacing up his field boots, still a little dusty from the Test Site.

In exactly ten minutes, Argent knocked on Rob's door, dressed in yesterday's outfit, but wearing boots instead of shoes. He nodded to Rob, and they rode down in the elevator and went out the hotel doors without exchanging another word. Rob didn't feel inclined to give watchers any clues to his day's entertainment, and he'd bet Argent wasn't feeling generous, either.

At the car, Rob paused long enough to ask, "Hey, are you willing to take a Caddy onto forestry roads?"

"As it happens, I was thinking of dropping by the rental lot for different transportation." Something about Argent's smile reminded Rob of the way he crushed out cigarettes.

"Great. You can leave me at the Military Surplus store downtown, and I'll pick us up some maps while you switch cars."

He wasn't surprised when Argent showed up in a battered jeep, just grateful the thing had a canvas top to keep the dust off them. Rob tossed his rucksack in back, slid into the shotgun seat, slammed the door panel closed, and let Argent get them out into traffic, which he did with the same casual skill he'd used driving the Caddy.

When Rob had given Argent the directions to get them onto the highway northwest out of Las Vegas, he kept his voice raised when he asked, "How'd you get this? I bet they don't stock them at Hertz."

"The right words, when combined with monetary diplomacy, still work outside of Washington. I note those are some very lumpy maps in that bag you're carrying."

"I bought you a rucksack and a canteen, along with a few extras. You don't want to hike without equipment, especially anywhere in mountains that have as many climatic zones as these do. 

There was a brief pause before Argent asked, his voice grave, "Are we done trying to impress each other?"

"Y'know, I think we are."

They both laughed. Then Argent asked, "So. Have you read _The King Must Die_ yet?

Once again, the sky was clear except for occasional, drifting cumulus. The day was still hot for October, but you could at least pretend to believe this was autumn. After a short trip on the desert highway, they turned onto a theoretically paved road and began their climb into the Spring Mountains. Another half an hour of careful driving brought them all the way up from the creosote bushes of the desert floor into the middle canyon's junipers and pinyons. The temperature dropped as they drove until Rob felt compelled to ask, "You brought some wool?"

"I did. Although this isn't anything a New Englander would call cold."

"You'd change your mind if we got stuck out here after sunset."

"I imagine I might." Argent's gaze flicked from the road to Rob and to the road again. "I'm sure any such experience would make me grateful for a reliable source of heat."

Rob eyed him right back before reaching for a map. This really was shaping to be an enjoyable day.

A mile more, and they were passing through a cluster of campsites and cabins. Some of the cabins seemed to belong to a motel -- complete with general store and gas pump -- of the sort that often anchored these small summer communities. Even this late in the year, the place was doing business, Rob noted as they passed. He was more interested in the mountains slopes that walled the canyon around them, craggy and dark with pines.

Rob folded his map. "We won't have near enough time to hike one of the big peaks today. But there is a nice, fast route to a local high point a few miles up ahead. Take a left at the acute T-junction."

After the turn, farther up the canyon, they turned left again onto a graveled road that climbed the slopes of the canyon to a Forest Service campsite. Aside from the usual trees, signboards, and minimal facilities, the place was mostly empty. A single battered pick-up truck and one well-worn tent were the only sign the campground was still open for the season.

Argent parked the jeep and turned off the ignition. He climbed out of the driver's seat. Then he looked around as the jeep's engine ticked and pinged, cooling.

"Lovely," he said. "Where are we?"

Rob gestured at the vast crown of rock protruding above the pines west of them. "Cathedral Rock."

"Somehow I'm not surprised by that name."

"At least it's not called Baldy. That's what they call about one out of every three rock domes and peaks above the tree line out here. I'd say, given the topography on the map, it'd take us an hour or two to hike to the summit. We'd cover a steep mile and a half."

"Then, by all means. After you."

Once they'd filled their canteens at the campsite water pipe, Rob found the trailhead, which looked both well marked and well maintained. He also spotted a few boot prints in places where the trail hadn't finished drying out from the thunderstorms a few days ago. "This trail must be popular. I'm surprised no one else is up here right now."

"You're surprised. I'm pleased."

Rob knew his voice was wry when he said, "Beware of men with binoculars."

"And conversation carries strangely in the hills. Still, this comes perilously close to privacy. I shall be a near solitary king of the mountain today."

Rob quickly glanced around, and then made a show out of offering his arm with a ridiculous flourish in front of a mud puddle. He expected a dry chuckle. Instead, Argent gravely took the proffered arm and gracefully minced around the puddle as if he were a noble minion at the court of Henry the Third of France. When Rob was done snickering, Argent let go and clapped Rob on the shoulder. "Come on, Sir Walter Raleigh. Let's hike."

The trail went through its switchbacks while gaining altitude quickly enough to demand some respect, but the hike was nothing more than a pleasant stretch for Rob. Argent, for all his momentary airs and graces, also wasn't having any trouble. They still took their time, pausing frequently to enjoy the shade of the trees and some neat views of gray rock cliffs, green stretches of pine, and the kind of scree that meant this area was prone to avalanches. At one point, the trail even passed a small stream.

"My God, water in Nevada not imported from the Colorado," Argent said.

Oddly, now that they could speak safely, they hadn't been doing much talking. "Seasonal, I bet. But those thunderstorms two days ago--"

"Lovely while it lasts. Like so many things." Without discussion, they turned away to continue up the trail. On this higher stretch, Argent kept speaking. "I always feel taller in a place like this."

"The mountains don't much care about men's opinions of each other," Rob agreed.

"Restful, knowing you're judged by nothing but your ability to survive." They shared a smile.

The view from the top of the trail was great, stretching back down the canyon miles past the campsite and settlement to the desert plains below. Rob slowly turned to check the rest of the vista, and instead caught Argent studying the cigarette case he held in his hands again.

As Argent examined the silver, his expression distant, Rob examined Argent. Then he asked, "May I?"

Argent looked up. "Of course." He handed over the case.

Rob opened it, scooped out all the cigarettes except for three, stuffed his handful into the front pocket of his flannel shirt, and returned the case. "Thanks."

Argent raised his eyebrows, but one of those dry smiles flickered like heat lightning across his features. "You're welcome." He put the case away. "This was a gift from an old friend. A 'dear chum'."

"College buddy?"

"Army Air Corps. KIA. Never mind." Instead of taking out the case again, Argent reached for his canteen and opened it. After taking a long drink, he passed it to Rob. Even though Rob had water of his own, he also drank before returning the canteen.

As Argent screwed the top back on, he said, "There are a few places in Maine and New Hampshire where I've always meant to sample the fishing, but the streams in question demand a bit of hiking."

"I've wanted to try fly-fishing," Rob said.

The sideways look he got was barely less devastating than the slow smile that followed. "I'm sure we'll get some real vacation days at some point."

"Given the last year, I sure hope I don't have to wait that long. And I don't mean for the fishing."

"Then, in the meantime, we'll have to seek other entertainment closer to home." Argent's voice was as bland as you'd ever desire.

Rob grinned before turning back to the view. This time, he looked away from the canyon and the trail they had hiked.

To the northwest, Charleston Peak rose high enough to be visible past the intervening topography. There were some beautiful cumulonimbi behind the mountain, billowing upward into the sunlight. They were building quickly, developing anvil tops. In fact-- For the first time that afternoon, Rob concentrated on the weather. Slowly, he scanned the sky again. Then he wet a finger and held it up, gauging the breeze on his skin, tasting it on his tongue, trying to estimate the humidity and the trend of the wind relative to the movement of the clouds he could now observe. Far off, dimmed enough by distance to be almost subliminal rather than seen, he sensed lightning.

He frowned. "Crap."

Argent looked up from fieldstripping the cigarette from which he'd taken his usual two puffs. "Oh?"

"We need to get going, now. I'm guessing thunderstorms, but I can only see the leading edge of the line from here."

"They weren't in today's weather forecast?"

"I didn't check."

Argent examined Rob. His eyebrows rose.

Rob grimaced and said, "Seems I was even more preoccupied with getting into your pants than I thought."

"You'd think that would annoy me, since these past months I've grown used to believing you were entertained solely by my more sophisticated charms. But, somehow, I find myself reassured. So much for lunch. Let's go."

"Put on whatever wool you brought along first."

Argent, to his credit, didn't complain about being coached on what he probably knew. He just nodded and reached for his rucksack. Rob slipped off his own rucksack, too, groping for the pullover.

Other than that, they didn't delay on the hike down. Rob took the lead and pushed them as hard as he thought safe and likely a little harder than that. After assessing how Argent was doing -- very well -- he even broke into jogging on the few stretches of trail level enough for the pace to be not entirely stupid. But none of their efforts did them much good. 

The dark clouds boiled over the rocky heights above them, and deep, distant mutters turned to rolls of thunder that echoed off the walls of rock. Pines shifted and sighed, their branches moving in a sudden wind. They lost the light. With a loud crack, lightning struck somewhere along the ridge, and it started to splatter rain. The two of them were still about five minutes from the trailhead when the rain turned into a downpour.

What should have taken an easy five minutes demanded a difficult ten, but they kept going. When they made it back to the campsite at last, the sorry pick-up and the sorrier tent were gone. Apparently, everyone had paid more attention to the weather forecast than the meteorologist had.

After a struggle with the canvas top, he and Argent piled into the jeep and sat, streaming water. At least the worst of the lightning was passing to the south of them, but they were still soaked. And, of course, they hadn't snapped in the rear panel of the top before they left, so the jeep was wet inside. Great.

"Let's go before we're stuck here," Rob told Argent.

"Very well." Argent managed to get the engine started and backed them out of the dirt parking space that was rapidly turning into a mud bath. Then he nursed them down the gravel road into the canyon with a precise care that provided proof of his resume. Argent had been a bomber pilot during the Big One before he'd been pulled back Stateside to spend the rest of the war using his aeronautics degrees to help develop early jet engines. Even driving along a stretch of road where water from a blocked culvert was threatening to overtop the gravel, his touch stayed sure. 

By the time they made it down to the T-junction, the rain was slowing and Rob could see some daylight through the clouds. He leaned forward, arms folded tight across his chest against the chill, squinting through the ineffectual job the wipers had been doing on the windshield to double-check directions. "Okay, we're good. Turn right." Then he leaned back and looked over at Argent.

Argent's hands may have been steady, but he was shivering. As the squall line passed, the temperature must have dropped fifteen or twenty degrees, and such sun as remained was now behind the mountains. He needed to warm up, and the heater in the jeep wasn't doing the trick.

Rob only realized he had spoken that thought out loud when Argent pressed his lips together over what Rob would wager were chattering teeth. Then he parted them long enough to say, "At least it's less than an hour's drive back to Las Vegas."

"Uh-uh." Rob shook his head. "You're too smart to believe making that drive in your state would be a good idea. Head for the motel we passed." In the face of Argent's level gaze, he added, "The off-blue that lips turn also isn't your color. And there's such a thing as being too cautious, which you've proven you know. Besides, somebody said earlier he'd be grateful for a reliable source of warmth. I have one word: coffee."

"You persuade me." Argent put the jeep in gear. "I'm chilled to the bone. You'll forgive me, though, for not being able to immediately enjoy being trapped in a B-movie cliché."

"Clichés have to happen often enough to become clichés. And we really are half-drowned and half-frozen, just in case someone slogs through this gully-washer to ask nosy questions. Not to mention--"

"Yes?"

"My BVDs are soaking wet and crawling halfway up my ass. Right now, I don't care about the F.B.I., or military intelligence, or any of those guys. I just want a chance to wring out my underpants."

"Understandable," Argent said. Maybe half a minute later, he made the turn to take them into the motel's parking lot.

The place was called Pine Lodge, another big surprise. It was a name right up there with Baldy for predictability. Argent drove them on past the general store without a stop for coffee. Instead, they pulled up in front of the lit window where a hand printed sign read, "Rooms, cabins, and tent spaces available for rent. Inquire within."

Rob started groping around in his rucksack, which was mostly waterproof, even as Argent set the brake. He told Argent, "You're thinner, which means you got hit harder. Eat this." He held out the Hershey bar with almonds. "I'll go see if we can get some towels, or maybe a room, or if we'll have to settle for coffee."

Argent didn't look up from ripping paper and foil away from chocolate. "I'll join you soon."

Clambering out of the jeep, Rob scrapped off his boots and then went into the motel's office. A bell sat waiting on the counter that stretched across most of the small room. The wooden sign next to it had a carved picture of a squirrel eating a nut on it and read, "Ring for Amy." Rob smacked the bell, and a harshly pleasant voice of the sort that usually belonged to a middle-aged woman called out from an open doorway behind the counter, "I'll be right out."

The lady who must be Amy was actually middle-aged, and was dressed about the way Rob would have expected in a mountain town, but her henna job was good and the green scarf she wore around her neck had some nice embroidery. She came into the office backwards, cradling stacked boxes of office supplies in her arms, and then turned to see Rob. That stopped her dead. After giving Rob the once-over, she said, "Lord, you look like a drowned bear."

"Uh-huh. This hasn't been my best day of hiking. And you should see my friend out in the car. Do you have a room available?"

"No reservation? Lucky for you, the weather's been so chancy all week." Her gaze turned assessing. "I take it you don't have any luggage with you."

"That would've required foresight. We really need somewhere to get warm and dry, maybe shower, before we head back down into the flats. I wouldn't mind paying for the whole night, considering we'd swamp our room." From behind him, he heard the sound of the door closing and faint squelching noises. Sure enough, when he turned, Argent was entering. He looked like a grave and graceful drowning victim, another tragic casualty of fly-fishing.

Argent seemed to be the last bit of reassurance Miss or Mrs. Amy needed. "Dear, dear. Now, I'll tell you what. Sign the register, here, and I'll fetch you some extra towels from the back. Then I'll send Jimmy by in about five minutes for those clothes of yours. It won't do them much good to be run through our machine, but we can have them back to you warm and dry in about an hour if you want."

Rob's thanks were earnestly meant and he hoped that showed. Argent was still shivering a little as he added his own thanks, and Rob's interjection in the form of a sneeze got the clerk hurrying back into her private domain for towels.

While she was away, Rob quickly filled out the ledger and started signing traveler's checks. Thank God, he hadn't found another decent reason to cash them out all week. And, thank God, he liked to carry a truly waterproof wallet. When Amy reappeared with the stack of towels, she slid a key across the counter to Rob. He grabbed it, and Argent stepped forward to take the towels.

"At this hour, you boys are welcome to use all the hot water you want," she said, examining each traveler's check and then scooping them into the cashbox beneath her counter. "Sorry you got rained on during your hike. Although, if I were you? I'd check the weather report next time."

For all his pallor, Argent still managed a crooked smile as Rob said, with true fervor, "I will remember to do that."

***

Anyone who thought such situations were automatically seductive had never been this cold and wet. After they got into their room at the end of the short wing, Argent headed for the bathroom with both rucksacks in hand while Rob drew the shades. The bathroom door opened just long enough for Argent to hand over his clothes, and Rob could hear the shower was already running.

He scooped out the sodden mass of wet tobacco from of his shirt pocket and into the room's trash can before emptying his trouser pockets. Then he stood on the cocoa-fiber mat by the room's door while he stripped down, adding his own contribution to the pile of sogginess as he toweled off. At least he had slung another towel around his hips before Jimmy came for the clothes.

Rob wasn't inclined to stand around chatting in the breeze from outdoors even in order to check what this town had to offer in the way of a Jimmy. Instead, he passed the clothes through the barely opened door, shut and locked it, and then headed for the bathroom. Brisk rubbing with rough cotton had helped a lot, but he still wanted to make sure that Argent was okay.

There was a billow of steam when Rob opened the door. He stepped inside and closed it again. "Hey. The guy came and--" Argent pulled aside the shower curtain hanging around the tub, and Rob stopped talking.

Okay, sure, Argent had to be ten or fifteen years older than Rob, but Jesus. Rob needed to find out how much membership cost in one of those fancy clubs with an exercise room. Argent had leanly muscled shoulders, for Christ's sake. And a leanly muscled stomach, and leanly muscled thighs, and-- Rob jerked his gaze back up from the tempting length of cock to find he was being watched with a dry amusement.

"Wow," Rob managed to say. "I was both rude and clichéd."

"I suppose, in the end, there is something to be said for the classics." With that, Argent reached out one long and graceful arm to cradle Rob's chin between thumb and fingers. "Drop the towel and climb in here. Try not to kill yourself doing so."

The next thing Rob knew, he was wet and Argent was closing the shower curtain. What he noticed after that was how Argent could get down on his knees in the big, slick bathtub while still looking graceful, another good advertisement for frequent exercise. All Rob could extrapolate from this was how promising Argent's mouth seemed, those thin lips fuller and more sensual than Rob would ever have predicted as they closed on their target.

It was a good thing Argent braced him with strong arms wrapped around Rob's upper legs before Argent's mouth introduced itself to Rob's cock, or there might have been a tragic and perverse bathtub accident. As it was, this angle wasn't much good for going deep, but Argent more than made up for his slight handicap with sheer talent and persistence. His tongue found sweet spots Rob had forgotten existed, ones all along the big, twisty vein and just south of the ridge below the head. Once he was sure Rob was steady on his feet, Argent freed a hand to wrap it around the base of Rob's cock, where it could join Argent's tongue and lips in running the vital project of driving Rob insane.

The hot water was warming up Rob and so was the sex. Those wet sounds of licking and stroking could have driven a saint to salacious raptures. Rob wanted to whimper with dreamy joy while he watched Argent suck him with mouth distended, but was forced to settle for growling, "No fair."

Argent's languid, humming noise of inquiry almost sent Rob right over the edge. He had to attempt applying the Coriolis acceleration to an imaginary sphere to regain control, effective physically but circumstances an impossible handicap mathematically. At least he didn't leave Argent with a mouthful of spunk before he could pull himself together enough to say, "I never got to find out what you like."

All elegant amusement, Argent freed his mouth and pressed together his now reddened lips, considering. Rob clenched his fists and swallowed another whimper. Argent said, "Well, I was enjoying what I was doing." His fingers delicately teased Rob's cock even as he firmly ran his other hand up and down Rob's thigh. "However, touching you is also good. Solid and sturdy. Even formidable. Very nice."

"Oh? Thanks." Cock or build, who cared right now?

"I wouldn't mind taking it up the ass, though."

For a few seconds, everything went quiet except for the sound of cascading water. Argent's expression seemed to challenge, to coax. Rob wondered how his own face looked. He wasn't surprised his voice was hoarse when he said, "Not on the bed. But you're tall, a couple of inches taller than me, and that home-built counter around the sink looks sturdy. If you grabbed--"

As Rob babbled, Argent's eyes focused into keen assessment and then softened again to hot and languid appreciation. "Always the problem solver, Dr. Lanard. Again, very nice." He reached over to turn off the taps of the shower.

The only thing that enabled Rob to pause long enough to towel off was the sight of Argent getting up, his cock almost shockingly flushed against his pale skin and riding high for a guy his age. No matter how controlled he might sound, Argent wasn't at all immune to what they were doing. Rob dried himself and then spent some time drying off Argent a little, sneaking in his chances to caress that lean body, enjoying Argent's warmth and the faint twitches as he reacted to Rob's touch.

Then Argent leaned against the sink counter, gently stroking his cock now and then as Rob rummaged through his rucksack. After Rob came up with the lotion he'd been using on his peeling skin, Argent asked, "Always prepared?"

"Like you said, an Eagle Scout." Rob squeezed out a healthy dollop of the lotion onto his palm.

When Rob pushed home at last, Argent let out a deep grunt. The noise spurred Rob's pulse harder than any of Argent's earlier, silkier sounds. Seeming to sense this reaction, Argent just gritted out, "Hard."

"Right."

They had to keep it down. They had to. But thank God this counter was as overbuilt as Rob had thought it was, because the heat of Argent's ass and that subtle thing he could do by tightening his muscles even as he pushed back into Rob's stroke made Rob crazy, made his movements rough.

Quiet was good for enjoying noises, too, like harsh breathing and the squelching slap of slightly wet skin meeting skin. But there was also the sharp smell of sex to savor. And there was the feeling of Argent's smooth, shifting muscles beneath Rob's palms and fingertips as Rob lost control. The rhythm of Rob's thrusts stuttered, and he hissed out breath, coming.

Afterward, he felt nothing but satiation and the vague need to stay upright until the urgent motion of Argent's arm as the guy worked himself roused Rob to action. He pushed forward with his hips, grinding hard and deliberately inside Argent's ass even as he slid a hand around to seek out that spot many men had right where their cock and balls-- Yeah, seemed as if that was a sweet spot for Argent, too. Argent also came, arching back and gasping loudly. Then Argent was the one needing some support to stay upright.

Afterward, Rob still held him close, moving his lips against Argent's shoulder. When a few seconds had passed, he said, "That was good."

"Yes."

"Kissing okay?"

"Oh, yes."

Rob eased himself out. The first touch of lips was almost chaste, suspended somewhere between friendship and passion. The second kiss demanded just enough tongue and touch before they pulled apart for Rob to suspect Argent might be as good at necking as he was at cocksucking. Rob looked forward to finding out.

As he pulled away, he noticed something sticky on his stomach, glanced down, and blinked at the mess they'd just spread around in the clinch.

Argent's lips twitched. "Applause, applause, if of the most elemental sort. We'll both need another shower, though."

"We'd better make it fast, before the guy gets back with our clothes."

"I was almost done, but someone interrupted. Not--" Argent added quickly "--that I’m complaining."

"Me first for the shower this time."

Argent's nod was regal. "Don't use the rest of the hot water." When Rob shot him an indignant look, he actually grinned.

All the monkeyshines had taken less time than Rob would have guessed. He was dry and back in his towel, gingerly gauging if the room's one, ancient chair would take his weight, when Argent reemerged from the bathroom. Just as when he wore black tie, Argent in a towel was something that should have been found only in a Hollywood movie, the kind of movie Rob wished they made more of so he could watch.

"Hmm?" Argent asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I want to stay friends, even if this goes wrong."

"Wise. Friends In The Know are rarer, and more valuable, than flings."

"Flings. I don't think so."

"Think what?"

Rob chewed his lip, and then blurted out, "I usually go after the young cuties."

"I had assumed."

"This is different."

"Should I be worried?" Argent didn't look worried.

"That's not what I mean. I had this officer, back while I was stationed in Korea. When the guy was a shave tail during the Big One, he went to a U.S.O. show, hoping one of the showgirls might look a little like a girl he'd mooned after back home. Instead, once the show--"

"Yes?"

Rob considered Argent. "Well, once the show was over, Ste…my major said he got picked up and worked over by none other than Marlene Dietrich. I believed him, too, because of the look he got on his face when he told me about it, as if he'd visited the Notre Dame of nookie." Shaking his head in amazement, Rob said, "Now I think I get how he felt. There's older, there's more experienced, and then there's aged in the cask like a twenty-one-year-old scotch."

"Note to self. If at first you do succeed, try, try again." This time, Argent's smile wasn't anything you could call dry. In fact, Rob had to divert them both into a discussion of the effect of thunderstorms on airline schedules, just to keep something ill-timed from happening in the five or so minutes before Jimmy returned with their clothing.

Their clothes were, indeed, warm and dry. The seats of the jeep were not. Rob needed to use another traveler's check, and some sweet talk, to finagle two more towels out of Amy-the-desk-clerk for the drive back to Las Vegas. They would make good souvenirs and reminders, he told her. He didn't say of what.

To add to the excitement of an already eventful day, Rob happened to look toward the car entering the parking lot just as Argent was pulling the jeep back out onto the road. Mr. Eavesdropper was behind the wheel.

Too late for him. They'd kept it down, they hadn't touched either of the room's beds, and any traces they might otherwise have left behind had been washed down various drains. There wasn't much interesting or unusual about a couple of idiot hikers drying out so they wouldn't carry colds back to the big city with them. 

Even life in hiding had its little victories.

 

IV

That he was leaving partially victorious was a thought Rob had to keep firmly in mind the next morning, as they took off too early for anyone with sense. The sky was still the peculiar gray-blue of the desert just before dawn. Below them, the ground seemed to fall away, the lights of the casinos and hotels brash and vivid against the desert plains. Las Vegas was retreating, but so was Rob.

Seated next to Rob, Argent frowned as if he didn't approve of being stuck in back during their take-off, a reaction Rob had noticed from other former pilots now reduced to flying as passengers. Sad, but the man had decided to wager flying against a chance to change the world. He might still win that bet if nothing got him escorted away from the gaming table early. They'd have to be careful back in Washington D.C., very careful.

When they reached cruising altitude, Rob tore his attention away from the clouds outside the window to glance over at Argent. He was asleep now, looking as vulnerable and graceful -- and as potentially dangerous -- as any cumulonimbus tower. Sure, they'd have to be careful, but Rob was beginning to think this still might be worth all the wariness.

Rob would never have a chance to win the gold medal other men wanted, to have the wife and kids, the white-fenced house in the suburbs, and the spaniel to fetch his slippers in the evening. This was the first time he had ever believed he might have a shot at a silver medal, instead.

As the stewardess approached them, Argent awoke, instantly alert. He asked Rob, as if they had been talking all along, "Do you think we can find anything useful to our purposes in those sets of atmospheric data we're bringing back with us?" Only someone who knew him well might have spotted the tiny hint of warmth in the otherwise composed gaze before he turned to order his drink and then turned back to await an answer. Rob was glad he was getting to know Dr. Phillip Argent very well, indeed. 

To tell the truth, Rob always had preferred silver to gold.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in historicity, Operation Argus was a real project and Dr. Christofilos was a real (and influential) researcher. My protagonist thinks the project was criminally careless, but you can check the actual details and decide for yourself. It's certainly an interesting example of how SCIENCE! can play out in our world rather than in a Marvel movie.
> 
> This story was originally published commercially through a small press, but all rights have reverted to me, where they remain. The usual fandom, not-for-profit permissions apply. Given the obvious fannish influences and tropes, it seemed possible to post it here. I hope you enjoy!


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